It feels like a vice,

Gripping my heart,

Squeezing, eating, salvitating,

Destroying my life,

Eating my friends,

Chasing my lovers,

Casting a divide between.

It has torn away,

Ripped at the fabric of me,

In the riptide,

It helped rip my biological children away,

Helped me lose everything,

Help? What a word to describe the verb,

Help? Surely I’d rather die then let it,

But, its grip on me is unique,

It’s hold like a blood worm,

It shoots it’s neck from its body,

Gripping me like a snail,

Eating my shell in its acidic belly,

Liquefying my me,

Poisoning my heart,

Paralyzing my heart,

Till I am a mushy mess in its stomach,

Any fight I have,

Lost the moment its venom hits,

Lost in the great divide,

Like a riptide it snags me,

Lost to the sea,

Of mental disease,

Barely keeping my head afloat,

In the typhoon of misery,

That grips my heart,

In its angry vice,

The bipolar rage that makes me see red.